Can't get him back
by Blueberrychills94
Summary: MJPART1 SPOILERS! My interpretation of Katniss' thoughts during the last moments of the film. Rated T to be safe. "I do not only see fury. There is something else. Fear. Helplessness. Pain . . ."


**A/N: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED MOCKINGJAY PART 1. MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE END AHEAD!**

**This is basically what I think was going through Katniss' mind in the final scenes of the film. The final scenes broke my heart, I don't know about you guys. Pain doesn't describe what I felt when it ended.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Can't get him back**

**By Blueberrychills94**

My throat still feels the hands tightened around them, squeezing every last breath from my system. The brace around my neck keeps my chin tilted upwards, forcing my posture to straighten almost painfully. A million thoughts fill my mind, each one as disorientating as the last. However, only one thought stands out against the rest. One thing that makes everything else seem unimportant. I don't care about what's happened; I don't care what he thinks about me; I don't care about how I'm supposedly mentally unstable. I need to pursue it. I need to get up and go.

I need to find him.

I rip the catheter out of my arm, my legs slipping over the edge of the bed. The life support machine drops from constantly bleeping to complete silence. I don't worry that this may alert others that I have got up. My mind is still consumed by that only thought. Find him. Find him. Find him. I have to see him. Properly. I didn't get a chance earlier before his hands grabbed my throat, his face contorted in an unbelievably fierce rage. I can't get the image out of his mind.

My hatred for Snow bubbles on the surface like water waiting to boil over the pot. He knew what he was doing all along. He knew how the sight of me would affect him, how the reaction it coaxed from him would be violent and merciless. That was why he let Gale and the others go so easily. This knowledge makes me feel weak at the knees as I move to the door of my hospital room and peer out. The coast is clear. Just like a few weeks ago when I found Finnick tying knots, hooked up to the same amount of machines as me. President Coin is holding an assembly, mandatory attendance, which explains why the area is so deserted.

I don't know where he is. When I got to the room in which he strangled me, he is not there. The room has been cleaned, any sign of struggle erased from existence. The efficiency of 13 is a blessing and a curse. I should be relieved that I should no longer acknowledge that there ever was a struggle but I'm not. All I can think about is what Snow has done to him. What he has done to them all. Johanna. Annie. But most importantly him.

A door at the end of the hospital ward calls to me like a siren. My feet take me towards it, my muscles crying in protest and pain with every step. My throat still hurts. Every breath feels like a raw scrape and my saliva feels like knives every time it slides down my esophagus. My hand trembles as it turns the door handle and I step inside. The room is deserted.

It is also empty. I hold my breath, my throat tightening in the process, as my eyes take in the extent of the room's desolation. There is nothing but a huge window in the wall directly opposite from me. Beyond that is complete whiteness. It is so bright that my eyes squint to blot some of it out. An uneasy sensation seizes out of me and I release my breath again before I suffocate. The soles of my feet press against the old steel floor, the standard white leggings rubbing my claves and thighs in an uncomfortable manner.

What's beyond the window, I know is not good. My throat aches the closer I get. My heart pounds in my chest like a bass drum. My stomach churns and I think I am about to be sick as my nerves threaten to take control of my body. I don't even know what is behind the window. I don't know what I'm going to find but whatever is beyond it can't be good. The silence is almost deafening. All I can hear is my blood pounding in my ears.

I'm a metre away from the window when my eyes take in what is beyond the silence.

My world slows down.

"_Hijacking is a type of memory alteration and fear conditioning method developed by the Capitol for torture._ _Tracker jacker venom is used to associate fear with certain memories, and to alter those memories with hallucinations."_

The window is soundproof but it is clear that he is screaming. There is nothing but a bed. A bed and four restraints. They are not sturdy as 13 has never dealt with a situation like this one before, however they do the job needed. His limbs can lift only a certain distance before the cloth tightens and stops it. He thrashes on the bed wildly, struggling so hard I worry that he's going to hurt himself.

I want to look away but I am paralyzed. The pain in my throat is forgotten. My painful muscles and cold feet are lost as I stare at his face, convulsed in anger and rage. The bright white walls and standard 13 hospital clothes cause every bruise and cut on his skin to stand out like a beacon calling to be noticed. I imagine how hard it must have been to get him into the hospital outfit that now mimics my own as ever since he has gained consciousness, I know that this is how he has been. Gone is the boy I used to know. The one who loved me; who held me in his arms and fought to keep me safe no matter what it took. He is completely consumed in his terror, his mind overtaken by the venom in his system.

I do not only see fury. There is something else.

Fear.

Helplessness.

Pain.

Every instinct in my body wants to rush into the room, to stand by his side like he always had for me. To hold him and keep him safe through the agony. I want to help him, shield him, and protect him from Snow and whatever fear he has made him feel. But that's the thing. It's me that he's afraid of. Snow has made me his greatest enemy. I do not go to him for I am a coward. Instead I stay rooted to the spot, consumed completely by my horror and my resentment for the Capitol and all the damage they have caused.

He slackens against the bed a little, the helplessness washing over him like a wave. He leans over a little, his lips parting in what I can only discern as a cry. The vulnerability pains me to watch and I close my eyes briefly. This is not fair. This is not fair. None of it is fair.

Snow has taken him away from me.

And I don't know if I'll be able to get him back.

**A/N: I am still in pain from watching the film and it will take me a while to recover. Mockingjay Part 1 was devastating and now comes the year long wait for Part 2, which will break me completely.**


End file.
